


A Drop of Silence

by SapphyreLily



Series: Sunlight Through A Glass Window [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Gen, calm nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7519090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Week Day 7 - Happy Birthday/Silver (Self Control/Responsibility)</p><p>It's not easy to find a spot of calm, but once in a while, it does appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drop of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very slow fic. Very slow, and I doubt I managed to capture the feeling correctly.

Oikawa tossed the book on his table, switched his table lamp to the lowest setting and turned to sit on his chair by the window. The moon wasn’t full that night, but that evening was the most tranquil one he had had for a long time, and he longed to preserve that feeling for just a while longer.

It was a very peaceful end to an extremely unlucky day.

x.x.x.x.x

“Tooru, I’m going to the driving range. Do you want to come along?”

His father, Oikawa Hitoki, seemed to be in a relatively good mood that night, and seeing him that way put Oikawa’s usually jittery heart at ease. He nodded. “I’ll meet you at the door in five minutes. Let me finish washing the dishes.”

“If you’re going to your room, could you get me a pair of socks as well? The loose ones.”

“Alright.” It was a simple request, but worded without anger or irritation. It was a polite and nice manner of asking, and Oikawa felt happy to help for once.

He got the socks and a book to read and followed his father out. The drive to the golf club was quiet but comfortable, occasionally peppered with small talk and empty questions. It felt like Hitoki had no ulterior motive for once, and it was strangely liberating.

When they had reached the club, Hitoki handed the clubs he brought and his golf shoes to his son. “Go down to the basement and sit at the tables. I’ll join you after I get some balls.”

Oikawa nodded and descended the stairs. The aforementioned tables were empty, but he decided to take a drink from the water cooler first. By the time he turned around, his father was already there, a fondly amused smile on his face. “I told you to sit at the tables.”

“I was drinking water.” It didn’t feel like a rude jibe. It was a general statement, with no infliction and no motive. He didn’t even need to control his tone.

Hitoki nodded and took the clubs, placing them with the balls at a station near the tables. “Turn on the fan and sit at the table. You can take care of my valuables while I practice.”

Oikawa turned around and pulled on the string to adjust the fan’s speed, then settled himself at a table. He watched briefly as his father poured the golf balls into the trough and took a few practice swings before lining himself up to hit the ball.

_Click!_

Oikawa blinked. He had forgotten how loud a driver was when it hit the ball. It had been too many years since he followed his father to the golf course to watch him practice.

All around him, other golfers were practising their swings, and the occasional burst of sound that came from a ball getting hit was oddly calming.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he flipped it open.

**Iwa-chan: Oi, dumbass. I don’t see you doing your work, are you watching a documentary again?**

Oikawa smiled wryly.

**Me: I’m at the driving range with my dad. He’s in a good mood today.**

**Iwa-chan: Oh? That’s good. How’s the range?**

**Me: Quiet. Peaceful. Kinda relaxing.**

**Iwa-chan: Sounds nice. Have fun.**

**Me: Thanks Iwa-chan! Have fun with homework!**

**Iwa-chan: We didn’t get homework today either, you ass.**

Oikawa chuckled, then tucked his phone away. Iwaizumi was a calm constant in his life, especially when things got out of hand. He was probably relieved that he wouldn’t have to play babysitter on a weekday. (Not that he needed it. Oikawa was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.)

He read his book at a leisurely pace, looking up only when somebody hit a ball particularly loudly. His father interrupted him several times to watch the trajectory of his swing, and how despite aiming in one direction, the ball would curve towards the left or right when it was in the air. It was slightly amusing, and though it wasn’t any sort of bonding per se (Hitoki was really just talking at him), Oikawa felt close to his father.

Since it was rather late at night, the cart to collect golf balls soon trundled onto the green, rolling across the balls and scooping them into baskets. It was a nostalgic sight, as was the sight of Hitoki sneaking onto the green to pluck stray balls close to him.

“Tooru, are you done?” Hitoki was suddenly by his side, pulling out his wallet. Oikawa cocked his head, a tiny lift at the corner of his mouth.

“I am only reading. Are _you_ done?”

Hitoki grinned semi-sheepishly. “Fifty more balls.”

Oikawa laughed and returned to his book.

Fifty balls later, his father called to him. “Take my card and some money, and go see if the storekeeper will sell you fifty more balls.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes but grinned, taking the money and card. The shopkeeper sold him the balls with no issues, and he vaguely wondered why Hitoki thought it would be a problem before brushing it off.

The rest of the night would have been peaceful if the workers carting the collected golf balls didn’t trip.

But trip they did, and one of four stacked baskets went flying, sending balls bouncing everywhere. Hitoki laughed good-naturedly and asked if he could buy some balls from them. Oikawa smiled from behind his book when they told him to just take some free of charge. It was borderline hilarious to see a grown man so excited when hopping around, picking up free balls for practice.

Oikawa returned to his book, but was called by Hitoki to go help the workers pick up the balls (and steal some for him). To his surprise, the balls were wet to the touch. He knew that the balls were run through a machine before they brought them away, so perhaps they got washed after being on the green?

Two more trips of picked-up balls later, Hitoki was finally ready to call it a day, and began packing up his clubs and shoes. He carried his own clubs back out to the car, and the atmosphere of tranquillity lasted all the way back to their home.

x.x.x.x.x

**Iwa-chan: Are you home yet?**

Oikawa sighed gently, peering out his window at the moon. His fingers typed a quick response.

**Me: Yeah. My window’s open.**

The reply was almost instant.

**Iwa-chan: I’m coming over.**

There was a loud shuffling sound as Iwaizumi climbed out of his window and onto the tree that connected their houses. Within a minute, he had swung himself up and into Oikawa’s room, nearly landing on the boy himself since he was still in the chair by the window.

“Damnit, Oikawa, do you want to get squashed or something?”

“No.” It was an honest answer, not least because he was calm enough to feel like telling the truth. “It’s just really peaceful tonight. I feel like I’m suspended between time and space.”

Iwaizumi gave him an odd look and dropped onto his bed. “You’re being poetic again.”

“Not really. I can’t describe it.” Oikawa returned his gaze out of the window. “It feels like I’m on a shelf, high above petty things like irritation and frustration. It’s like the peace I feel when it’s early in the morning and I’m alone at home, and it’s just me and the house and the chores. It’s a weird sort of limbo and tranquillity. Iwa-chan, have you ever felt like that?”

Iwaizumi hummed. “Sometimes. You know, when you’re not being whiny and I have some brain space left to think.”

Oikawa smiled wryly. “I think I understand. I’m an ass a lot of the time, aren’t I?”

His best friend laughed. “Glad you know. But really, this peaceful side of you is so weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

“Nice weird. It’s not like you to be so…carefree.”

“Iwa-chaaan.” Oikawa flicked his gaze over, grinning lazily. “I’m always carefree.”

“It’s always fake.” Iwaizumi pointed out. “But now you seem like there’s no load on your shoulders. No pressure on you.”

“Mm. I think that pressure is called ‘being polite to people you don’t like'?” He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was. He thought and thought about it, but his brain wasn’t being very cooperative.

Iwaizumi snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Your perfect self-control. That stupid mask you always wear around others.”

“I have an image to maintain.”

“That’s why you’re always stressed. You don’t _have_ to try so hard to make people like you.”

“I don’t try with you.”

“And that’s weird, because I’m still here when everyone else has run away.”

“You love me.” Oikawa didn’t feel the slightest bit offended at any of the lazy jibes; they flew over his head, like water off a duck’s back. It seemed like nothing could touch him. Iwaizumi made a noncommittal noise in response.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Iwaizumi stirred. “Hey, it’s kind of late. Go and shower.”

“Mm. I probably should.” Oikawa got up, not bothering to complain or procrastinate like he usually would. “Are you going back?”

“Nah. I’ll stay.”

“Iwa-chan is in a good mood tonight too.”

“Just go shower, dumbass.” He said it fondly, and Oikawa left with just the tiniest quirk of his lips.

x.x.x.x.x

Oikawa hung his towel up after rubbing his hair dry, dropping onto the bed. “Iwa-chan, aren’t you getting the futon?”

“Nah.” Iwaizumi was stretched out on his bed, reading one of his manga books that he had left lying around. “I finally figured out the best gift for you, at this point.”

“Oh? What is it?” Oikawa didn’t think too hard about the switch in topics. He tried to peep at Iwaizumi’s face, but he turned away.

“When was the last time you got a hug?”

Oikawa blinked. Stared at the back of Iwaizumi’s head, watched his ears turn red. “Iwa-chan,” he said slowly. “Are you offering me the one and only thing that will cost you absolutely nothing but your pride?”

A pillow – his pillow – flew and smacked him in the face.

“It’s not about the money! I've known you for years, you idiot. I know what you want, and what you need.” Iwaizumi wasn’t looking at him, but at least he was sitting up; they were face to face. “You want people to think that you’re untouchable. But what you need is someone to be by your side and support you. So. I’m offering to be that someone, at least for tonight.”

Oikawa blinked furiously. His heart was oddly buoyant, yet it ached. His eyes were hot, but he was definitely _not_ crying. “You couldn’t have offered earlier in the day?”

“It’s embarrassing, you dolt! Besides, this morning wasn’t particularly a good time to bring it up.”

Oikawa winced at the memory of his hectic morning, last minute arrangements and panicked rushing. “Point taken.”

The silence stretched between them, neither looking up from their toes.

“So… I can use you as a body pillow tonight?” It came out more meekly than he thought it would, but Iwaizumi let out a strangled sound.

“I was– Why did you say it like that– I meant– Arggghhh.” He put his head in his hands. “Yes. Yes, okay? This is so embarrassing.”

Oikawa realised he was crushing the pillow, so he quickly released it and tossed it at his friend’s head. He hopped off the bed to turn out the lights, then made a childish dash and jump onto the bed. From the strangled gasp and the hard torso he collided with, his aim was true.

“Shittykawa, for god’s sake, I’m going to die of internal bleeding if you keep doing shit like this.”

“Iwa-chaannnn,” he screamed, face half-buried in his shirt. “You’re too nice to me!”

A hand dropped on his head, tugging sharply before ruffling through the messy strands. “Only for today, you hear?”

Oikawa squeaked in excitement and wiggled closer. He adjusted his arms until they fully encircled Iwaizumi’s waist, squeezing tightly and burying his nose in his shirt.

A sense of calm immediately stole over him, some tension leaving his shoulders. He squeezed more insistently, as if to reassure himself that yes, there was a firm body supporting him, and that it wouldn’t suddenly disappear. He sighed in contentment, turning his head to the side so that he could better feel the rise and fall of Iwaizumi’s breathing.

The hand in his hair was gently massaging his scalp and he hummed appreciatively, bumping his head against it. A low rumble shuddered through the body beneath him, and he smiled to himself.

“Tooru, you are not a cat.”

Oikawa squeezed tighter in response to that, letting out a small whine. “I’ll be whatever I want. Iwa-chan can’t stop me.”

The hand pulled out of his hair, and he looked up in confusion. The next moment, there were hands under his armpits, and he was hauled up with a loud yelp. His head hit his pillow, and the blankets were yanked up to his shoulders.

“Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi was already wriggling under the blankets, twisting and turning until the bed seemed to fit both of them. He huffed, a soft exhalation of mint, and said, “Okay. _Now_ you can do what you want.”

Oikawa poked his forehead. “Iwa-chan, you care too much. Now I’m warm and comfortable and I’ll fall asleep.”

“That was the plan.”

Oikawa was stunned speechless. Then he smiled into the darkness. “Iwa-chan, turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around. I don’t have to clean out your ears, do I?”

Iwaizumi spluttered, then settled for flicking his forehead before acquiescing. “What are you trying to do?”

“Since this is a rare opportunity, I’m gonna be the big spoon!” Oikawa threw his arms around Iwaizumi’s torso, burying his nose in his neck. “Mm. Iwa-chan is warm.”

“You’re just cold.” Iwaizumi’s voice was muffled, but there was no note of complaint in it. He placed his hands over Oikawa’s, letting the warmth transfer between them.

Oikawa hummed absently, snuggling closer. He was very comfortable, and would fall asleep soon. “Hey, Hajime?”

“What?” Iwaizumi sounded sleepy as well.

“Thanks. I did need this.”

There was a long beat of silence, and Oikawa had nearly fallen asleep when he heard, “You’re welcome.

“Happy birthday, Tooru.”


End file.
